"No. And the cops have tried contacting the woman's husband, but there's no response. Apparently he didn't turn up for work this morning."
Her husband. Good Lord. I briefly closed my eyes and blew out a breath. "I'll get there ASAP."
"Keep me updated."
"Will do." I hung up and climbed into the car. The journey over wasn't a pleasant one, my mind more on the images of bloodshed than the road. It was a wonder I didn't crash.
Cole and his team were already in place and investigating by the time I pulled up. I ducked under the police tape and walked up the steps. The smell hit me almost immediately and I stopped, unwilling to face what I knew waited.
Because not only did death wait, but that thick sense of gloating evil, as well. It wanted a reaction. Needed a reaction.
And if my turning stomach was anything to go by, it might just get it.
Though I made no sound, footsteps began to echo through the house, heading in my direction. Cole was a wolf, even if he was a shifter rather than a were, and he must have scented me. He appeared out of the gloom of the hallway, stripping off bloody gloves and tossing them in the special waste unit that had been set up to one side of the door.
"It's as bad as the first one," he said, stopping in the doorway and filling my senses with his warm, masculine scent. It was a nice distraction, but one I knew couldn't last.
"Same deal as before?"
"Yeah, pretty much." His gaze swept me, but it was more clinical than interested. "You ready to face it?"
"Her," I snapped. "Her soul is a her, same as she was."
He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Just reached to one side and handed me another pair of those paper-thin shoe-covers. "Use these. It's pretty messy in there."
I slipped the things on yet again, then asked, "Has the husband been found yet?"
"Nope. But he's looking a likely suspect."
"Except if this murder is like yesterday's. Then something else is going down." I stood up and blew out a breath. "Okay, let's get this over with."
He stood to one side and waved me ahead of him. The stink hit harder the moment I stepped into the small hallway, filling every breath with the scent of death. I shuddered, and tried to ignore it.
Which was a hard thing to do when it seemed to permeate not only the air, but the walls themselves.
"Through the living room and into the kitchen," Cole said, his warm voice almost jarring against the cold stillness of the house.
I walked through the living room, avoiding the bloody splashes and bits of gore. The bird-shifter glanced up and gave me a nod as I passed him, then got back to examining the bloody handprint on the wall.
There were more bloody prints on the doorframe. I flexed my fingers, trying to ease the tension rolling through me.
I knew what to expect. Knew it would be bad. And yet, my stomach still recoiled when I saw the utter destruction of what once had been a human body. No mere man could have done this. Hell, even with the strength of a vampire and a werewolf behind me, I had serious doubts as to whether I could have done this.
My gaze stopped on her torso, hunkered down in a far corner under a table. Like yesterday's victim, a knife had been plunged deep into this woman's right eye, pinning her head to the wall behind.
And she'd died with a scream on her lips and terror locked in her remaining eye.
My stomach rebelled. I turned and ran for the front door, barely getting outside before I lost the contents of my breakfast into the shrubbery. I stayed there, bent over the mint bush, sucking in the scent as I tried to calm the trembling in both body and spirit.
I couldn't go back in there. I just couldn't.
I didn't care if her spirit was there. It wouldn't tell me anything I didn't already know - and I certainly didn't want to feel any more of her pain than what I'd already seen.
"Here, drink this."
Cole's soft voice came from behind me. I looked around, then accepted the glass of water he was offering. After rinsing my mouth several times, I sipped the remaining water, not wanting to stir my fragile stomach any more than necessary but needing to get some moisture back into my body. It felt like that house had drained me in more ways than one.
"I'm sorry," I said, after a moment. "That was very unprofessional of me."